


Late Nights with Brad and Ray

by maccabird_23



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shut up, Ray. Now, get to your motherfucking point so I could get back to sleep.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Nights with Brad and Ray

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my old LJ account. Decided to preserve some of my better fics.

 

 

“Hey Brad.”  
  
“_”  
  
“Brad?”  
  
“_”  
  
“BRAD!”  
  
“What do you want, Ray?”  
  
“Oh, I'm sorry. Were you asleep?”  
  
“Shut up, Ray. Now, get to your motherfucking point so I could get back to sleep.”  
  
“How am I suppose to shut up and get to my point? Theoretically speaking, I have to open my mouth to get to my point, but I can't do that if I have to shut up?”  
  
“You know, I could just shoot you.”  
  
“Fine, fine, be a sour fucking puss. I was just thinking.”  
  
Sigh.  
  
“Hey, don't sound so excited about it, dude. You might give people the wrong impression.”   
  
“What people, Ray? Trombley's asleep, Rolling Stone is asleep, and I should be fucking asleep.”   
  
“Do you think Lt. Fick is asleep?”   
  
“I'm not sure, Ray. I don't have a complete schedule of the nocturnal habits of all the Lieutenants in all the platoons.”  
  
“I didn't say all the Lieutenants. I said Fick.”  
  
“_”  
  
“And speaking of Fick, have you noticed the big ol' boy crush he has on your Hebrew ass?”  
  
“Do you actually expect me to dignify that question with an answer, Ray?”   
  
“Answering a question with a question. Is that the kind of mind fuck, Aristotle bullshit that they taught you in those upper-class suburban butt-fuck high schools that you white bread, cock-sucks went to?”   
  
“Socrates.”   
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing, but you must understand that as a white bread cock-suck, as you put it, I was the unlucky party out of the two of us.”   
  
“How's that?”  
  
“I was never exposed to the trailer trash, whiskey tango insights that probably filled your adolescent experiences with such useful talents, like how to give a five dollar blowjob at a truck stop without being caught by the highway patrol.”   
  
“Flattery will get you Jews everywhere, but don't think I've forgotten the question at hand. Have you noticed that Nate has a crush on you?”   
  
“What makes you think that I would care if our Lieutenant has a crush on me or not?”  
  
“It's just that I noticed you two getting pretty chummy back at Mathilda. Now, you two are practically bosom buddies, sneaking off to have private conversations. Is it just talking you're doing with your mouth when you're alone with our esteemed Lieutenant? Come on, you could tell your ol' buddy Ray-Ray.”   
  
“You know this is a war we're partaking in and not a high school drama. And we're Marines and not pimply-faced teenagers. Sometimes, if not a majority of times, it is needed and expected for Sergeants and Lieutenants to converse.”   
  
“Whatever you say, Brad.”   
  
“Am I sensing a tone of jealousy in your voice?”   
  
“_”  
  
“Is that quietness I hear? I must have fallen asleep or been shot by friendly fire because a silent Ray is not something that exists in the mortal world.”   
  
“_”  
  
“You know, when Lt. Fick and I have time to talk about anything besides our inapt commanders or anything else to do directly with the war, we usually talk about you.”  
  
“Horse-dick.”   
  
“What?”  
  
“That's crap. I'm pretty sure you two have a lot more in common that you don't have to fall back on talking about my white trash ass.”  
  
“What do you think we talk about?”  
  
“I don't know. Educated bullshit and stuff.”   
  
“And you're not educated?”  
  
“Not like you two fuckers who speak all fucking—”  
  
“Educated.”   
  
“Exactly.”   
  
“He likes you, you know.”  
  
“What?”   
  
“He said it's very calming to hear you talk.”  
  
“What?”   
  
“He said that with every annoying song you sing and every neurotic curse-filled rant you go on, he feels almost a sense of peace; that without you, a lot of us just might be ready to snap at any moment.”  
  
“What the fuck does that supposed to mean?”  
  
“That he wants to fuck you.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“No, but he does think you do a really good job of relaxing his men.”  
  
“Hey, whatever he heard about that time in the barracks with Rudy is a total lie. It was very hot and I ran out of underwear—”  
  
“I don't think he meant it that way, Ray.”   
  
“Okay, whatever, but you still haven't answered my motherfucking question. Do you know that Lt. Fick has a big ol'–”  
  
“Ray!”  
  
“Don't interrupt me when I'm on a rant, Brad.”   
  
“Shut up so I could kiss you.”   
  
“Now, how am I supposed to shut up and let you kiss me? Theoretically speaking, I have to open my mouth—”  
  
“_”  
  
“_”  
  
“Now, do you think I care if Lt. Fick likes me or not?”  
  
“Shut up and kiss me, Brad. You talk too much!”

 

 

 


End file.
